


For pOwerbottomsuperman

by Vodka112



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Cute Kids, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 10:18:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10739694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vodka112/pseuds/Vodka112
Summary: Based onthis. Bruce's youngest kids interrupt his video conference with the Wayne Enterprises Board of Directors.





	For pOwerbottomsuperman

Bruce was seriously reconsidering his decision to hold the board meeting via video conference from the manor. Some odd years ago, he missed the birth of his second daughter when he got called up to help stop a violent take over of Wayne Foundation by LuthorCorp, underneath the guise of Kord Industries. He spent most of his time traipsing around the globe, keeping a frantic Tim from a full nervous collapse, something his son was keen on doing almost daily. The day was saved some six months after when the last of Kord’s shares on Wayne Enterprises had been sold and transferred to Drake-Wayne Holdings, and Tim had finally stopped trying to choke himself with his tie.

Bruce had been devastated when he came home and found his baby daughter gleefully flying and toddling around the manor. When Clark introduced them, she stared at him for three full seconds before turning her head a full 180 degrees. Bruce suspected it was baby speak for “I don’t know you, I don’t care about you” and promptly left the room to brood in the cave. At least, he finally managed to open his private batman com-line and got bombarded with letters of congratulations from his other children. He even got a single, unsigned line that he knew was from Jason.

It took months to establish a parent-child relationship with Cyrilla Kent-Wayne, alias Cir-El. Their long stretch of days spent glaring at each other through the breakfast and dining table had been broken by Damian coming home from Eton College. It warmed his heart to see his children play with their new sister but there was also jealousy, since Damian had found time to take a break from school during the  _take over crisis_ and bonded with his sister before any of the other batbrats could. Which was saying something since Dick had been a city away, almost in arms reach, and he still beat his elder brother to the punch.

Cyri had preferred Damian over any of her other siblings, and Damian’s preference to spend time with Bruce had boosted his relationship with his daughter. Nowadays, it was hard to shake her off Bruce’s trail. It was a trait further aggravated by the birth of her youngest sibling, Jon.

He was the main reason for Bruce’s temporary isolation from the rest of Gotham society. Jon had been born with a fluffy crown of dark hair and Bruce had been  _there_ to see it. They have a lovely rapport growing between them and Bruce was anxious to leave before Jon imprints on him completely. Clark kept saying Kryptonians don’t imprint but Bruce had seen his kids, from Kara to Chris to Cyri. His observations were rarely wrong and he told Clark so before absconding to the library with Jon in his arms instead of in the baby walker.

“Mister Wayne, I don’t think you’re aware our privacy has been compromised,” the Vice President said, pointing her french, manicured nails at something across the screen. Not a second later, two little hands grabbed his arm.

“Pa-pa? Papa!” Cyri called out to him. She was wearing–

She was wearing a tiny version of Batman’s cowl paired with her sleeping pajamas and Batman blanket. Bruce winced at the camera, despite the smiles gracing the faces of the people on the other side. 

“Oh my god! Is that you Cyri? You’re getting big!” Tim’s hologram piped up from between Lucius and the head of accountancy. He tried to get closer to the screen with little success.

“No,” Cyri snapped at him. She’d never liked Tim much, something Bruce thought came from the fact that she hadn’t spent enough time to imprint on Tim yet. If only the boy stopped hopping between countries every month…

“No? You don’t want to see me? Bruce, isn’t it like ten to midnight over there?” Tim said, slyly changing the course of the conversation.

“Yes,” Bruce replied. He turned to his daughter. “Cyri, did you run away from Dad again?”

The little girl twiddled her thumbs behind her back. She looked up at Bruce and asked, “No?,” trying to radiate as much innocence in her demeanor as she could muster. She would have to try harder to fool anyone in this family.

“Please go back to Dad. He must be worried about you,” Bruce said, putting his huge hand behind his daughter’s back to push her gently to the door. He was met with a counterforce as strong as steel.

“See-we stay, pwease?” she asked, turning her blue eyes from Bruce to the camera and the rest of the board.

“Perhaps a brief recess?” The Vice President offered with a slight quirk to her lips. Bruce remembered she has two grandsons and was expecting a third this May. 

“Five minutes to chatter with the youngest, prettiest lady Wayne. Can’t imagine doing anything better with my time,” the chairman said, smiling indulgently. His youngest daughter was heavy with child the last time Bruce saw her. He caught Tim’s hologram trying to roll his eyes. Bruce smiled at the camera, trying to hide a sigh.

The board spent three agonizing minutes conversing with Cyri and trying to get Bruce to bring her over during the next charity function. Bruce had to politely decline all social invitations, mentioning the half-lie he told the reporters some eight months ago about trying to protect his family from the glitter and glamor of Gotham’s society pages. He didn’t even want to think what kind of headlines the Gazette would spin when Cyri accidentally flew through a chandelier or fall off the 27th floor of the Ritz and come out unscathed, not to mention the articles comparing  _Clark Kent-Wayne_  to  _Superman_. No. It was better to hide until the kids were old enough to blend with the masses.

Not that they could ever disappear in a crowd. With Bruce’s genes mixed in with Clark’s, their progeny would grow like trees. Barbara said so. Alfred and Leslie wholly agreed.

There was a loud thud and Bruce turned around to see Jon bouncing his way into the room. A pair of tiny hands were imprinted on the door, low enough to be invisible from the vantage point of the camera. Hologram Tim sneezed three times to take everyone’s attention while Jon toddles his way by Bruce’s feet.

“What was that? Did a door open just now?” the head of accountancy asked.

“Cyri must have forgotten to close the door when she came in,” Bruce lied smoothly, “but look who rolled in!”

Bruce lifted the baby, all ten  _plus_  pounds of him, up to the camera. The board let out appreciative noises and Hologram Tim twitched harder in his seat. Bruce hoped Clark would get in here soon enough before he was forced to accept gala invitations in behalf of the kids.

Clark appeared through the doorway as if summoned by Bruce’s thoughts, which wasn’t necessarily bad except he had obviously flown in due to the absence of the frantic parent’s footsteps. He had corralled the kids out of the room with not a touch of grace. The kids had decided to prove their bat lineage by doing everything in their power to wriggle out of Clark’s hands and cry for their Papa. Clark had left the room without even saying anything to the board. Just a quick  _Sorry!_ to Bruce, and then silence.

“I guess we’re back on business now, madames et monsieurs,” Tim said with flourish. Staying in Paris has greatly influenced his French.

“Ahem, yes,” the chairman coughed, “Let us have a quick review, then proceed with Mister Wayne’s proposal. There’s no need to watch the LuthorCorp video again, or is there?”

Bruce smiled at the camera. “There’s no need, I’m sure.”

“Please continue with your proposal Mister Wayne. We wouldn’t want to keep you from your family longer than we have already, excluding Mister Timothy Drake-Wayne,” the Vice President said and Tim threw her a mocked hurt look from over his folder. 

END


End file.
